


Adrift

by wrorus



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Depression, Gen, basically a super depressing fic, drug abuse (sorta), idk - Freeform, self harm (sorta???)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrorus/pseuds/wrorus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He condemned himself to a road of damnation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /crossposted at ffnet/

* * *

**The Boy**

. . .

The vicious, hostile and hot dark red fire that bubbled, hissed at and burned anyone that got in its way wasn't a part of Kuroko, _would never be a part of him._

Or so he liked to believe.

A rational state of mind that didn't involve imagining the world crumbling into fine dust was what Kuroko liked to desperately cling onto, like a broken prayer to God. Kuroko liked being Kuroko/Tetsu/Kurokocchi/Kurochin/Tetsu-kun, the calm, poker-faced boy that all his friends associated with, and know him as Kuroko Tetsuya, their phantom player and friend. He didn't want to be Kuroko Tetsuya, known as the big ball of hate with the ferocity of an angered, insane tiger and the fucking mess he actually was.

His friends, or he had them, were six who he loved dearly and didn't want to let go. One who lost all hope after his ascension to godhood, one who tried to dethrone the emperor, the other who heavily depended on the machinations of stars, one who only toyed with others, one who never wanted to be proved wrong and the last, lost and scared at the monsters the other five became.

_("I don't even know how to receive your passes anymore.")_

_("Why bother? Everyone will lose anyways, 'cause we're strong.")_

_("My sign has determined it is bad for me to play today. But does it matter, since Aomine will beat them all?")_

_("Hmm… let's make a game out of the scores to liven things up a little.")_

_("What are you saying? Of course I am Akashi Seijuuro, Tetsuya.")_

_("What will be do, Tetsu-kun? Everyone's not… like the way they used to be anymore…")_

The day the third championship ended was the day his world just stopped turning on its axis, everything slowed down and nothing mattered anymore, not when time just stood there, watching his friends ruin themselves. Nothing mattered and he didn't care or give a single fuck at all, because screw it, the world could crumble to dust and he wouldn't even bat an eye.

Their glory days were over and in turn, their legend created resentment, in the school teams they played against, and made a monster that never wanted to bare its claws.

In truth, Kuroko Tetsuya was an ugly monster – a dirty mess, a tragic creation, a ticking time-bomb that would cause destruction at any moment.

Thus, he finally became the one thing he avoided avidly – the angry, lousy, pathetic, self-loathing boy that he never wanted to be.

If time watched his friends ruin themselves, then time would watch him as he ruins himself, too.

.

.

.

Right after Kuroko cut off all ties with them, he wandered in the snow-filled city, alone and invisible. To him, snow was depressing and made him feel detached from the rest of society, which was fine with him. He didn't feel the need or want to connect with others, nor did he wanted to try again when all it did was hurt him in the end because he tried too hard to keep them together, tearing himself apart while doing so.

So, he wandered, without destination, without a care, without a thought. Caring less and eventually not caring at all was Kuroko's new best friend, because caring for someone was so tiring and a thankless job, so why bother when all he needed, was himself? In the end, the only person that mattered to him, was himself, no? So there was truth in his statement and no one else could argue with it, could they?

Minutes later, when he found himself in front of a dark and dirty alley, filled with a few people, either smoking, squatting together burning a spoon and murmuring backdoor deals, he shrugged and forged on. It's not like anyone would notice his existence and if they did, they wouldn't care, just like him. The one thing he learned, after rejection and missing pieces of his heart, was that the world carried on even if someone vanished. If Kuroko Tetsuya vanished, no one would be bothered, because it would be like trying to catch air. One person hardly made a difference compared to the entire universe.

But he was surprised when someone approached him.

"Hey, kid, kinda illegal for ya to be here, don't ya think?" a tall, brunet man with slightly dirty clothes whispered harshly, taking a drag of his cigarette when he shivered from the sudden burst of cold air from the left. Kuroko didn't mind the smell of smoke, inhaling it even, because it calmed him as it reminded him of fire. Sweet, burning, destructive fire that would destroy anything, just like him, who was made to destroy and be destroyed. "But don't ya worry; I ain't gonna sell ya out. Ya got to have a reason, comin' here even though ya look like you belong to elementary. What'cha need?"

"I need something that'll take off my mind." Kuroko replied, not at all bothered when the others noticed him and flicked their gazes at him, searching him, finding for a certain something, before returning to whatever they were engaged in. See, he was right. They didn't care, just like him. Mind his own business, and they would theirs. "Don't care about the effects, because I just don't."

That's why when he bought the pack, he smiled.

Yes, he didn't care at all – the consequences, the aftermath, whatever fancy word to describe "bad effects".

Why should he?

.

.

.

The next day, Kuroko came back to the very same alley, looking for the man that gave him the pack. He obviously miscalculated in the fact that he didn't know jack shit about drugs, therefore did not know how to even use the pack he was given for approximately 3000 yen. He knew he was being stupid, but then again, buying drugs is stupid, so what was his point?

"Back here, eh, kiddo?" the same man, who was still the same as yesterday but thankfully in a fresh set of clothes, grinned at him. Kuroko did his best to control himself to not look like a deer caught in headlights. He wasn't sure how he was faring when the man grinned even wider. "Looks like it's a first time for ya, but I got that when you didn't ask for specifics yesterday."

"Just shut up and tell me how to use it." Kuroko snapped back, which was uncharacteristic of him, but he was cold as fuck and irritated as hell. He wasn't used to it, but it was actually nice letting all of his tightly-bottled up emotions go, just like that.

"A favor then and no, not money." The man looked unaffected by Kuroko's sudden retort and waved him off when Kuroko reached into his pockets to grab some spare change he had with him. "Don't go to the other guys for the stuff. Find me if you need more. I can even set you up a place for free to do this, if you got nowhere else."

"It's fine, I live alone." Kuroko mumbled, instantly suspicious of the man. He could buy whatever drugs he wanted from whatever dealer there was and that was not this man's choice, but his. Though he would agree for now, because he didn't want to jump from place to place to find himself illegal things to shop. "Is that it?"

Apparently, it was the wrong question.

"Nah, just one more thing." He continued. "Introductions, 'cause callin' ya kid or kiddo is a pain in the ass and we need a little formality, even if what I'm doing ain't right. You can call me Kyou-san and if you don't want to tell me yer name, I'll call ya… Yuu, from _yuurei,_ 'cause kid, you're as pale as a fucking ghost." He chuckled.

"People don't generally notice me. I'm surprised you did." Kuroko did not roll his eyes, but he was close to it.

"Well, almost scared the fuckin' daylights outta me when you appeared from goddamn nowhere town." Kyou shrugged, not at all repentant that he admitted it, because hey, honesty is the best policy, other than money of course. "If everyone weren't as high as fuckin' kites yesterday, they would'da screamed. Like stupid little girls."

It was Kuroko's turn to shrug. Not his fault if people got scared, or in their case, shocked if he "suddenly" appeared.

"Anyways," said Kyou as he tossed the pack back to Kuroko, who caught it on time. "It's powder, bro, you gotta snort it. Sniff it. Smell it. Whatever." He said as he waved Kuroko off, who walked away to go back to his house.

All he had to do was use his nose for this?

Well that was a waste of time and energy.

.

.

.

When Kuroko entered his room, he locked the windows, closed the curtains and door. Then, he sat down on the floor, in front of his small table, placing the pack on the table. He opened the pack, which was actually a zip locked sandwich bag quarter filled with white powder and dipped his index finger in, letting the powder stick onto his skin.

When he brought his powder covered finger out of the bag and sniffed it, the intense euphoria and pleasure that came right after was absolute bliss.

He didn't feel like the angry, lousy, pathetic, self-loathing boy that he already became.

.

.

.

Day after day after day, he stuck a finger into the bag and brought it back out to sniff it. It became a custom, a routine, a tradition, to do it when he was waiting for the school month to start. When school ended in late December, he felt relieved that he no longer had to actively avoid them, but it instantly became a nightmare, because he was trapped within his own cage.

He didn't know how long he had been holding onto it but one day, he decided that he should probably stop doing drugs, even though whatever he was doing seemed so minor compared to the hardcore drug addicts he saw on the internet and television. So, he hid the pack within the back of the kitchen cabinets, forgetting it for the rest of the day and read books instead. That one day turned into a few, which then turned into a week.

It ended in a disaster.

At first, he thought the chill was from the ongoing winter and he tried to fix it by turning up the heat. When he looked at the food in his refrigerator, he almost threw up, because the thought of all of it going to his stomach and the act of digestion made him feel horrid. He was a horrible eater anyways, so no surprise there.

Then the doorbell rang and it was fucking loud.

_**Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding –** _

" _Hello, delivery service_." A muffled voice came beyond the door. It was probably some stupid package from his parents who were working in Italy right now. " _Hello, is anyone there-_ "

"Fuck off!" Kuroko shouted, loud and hysterical. He didn't know why, but he felt itchy all over and angry, for no reason at all. His anger was well kept in check in the past… whatever-how-long weeks he had been home. He didn't understand why that nasty emotion was coming back now when he had been fine for so long. He just wanted to tear, to rip, to hurt. "I'm busy!"

Why did he say he was busy? What was he even busy with? With anger?

" _Uh-uhm, sir-"_ the voice sounded bewildered but Kuroko didn't care. He felt vexed and antagonized by the voice.

"J-just leave the package there." Kuroko stuttered. He breathed in and out, trying to control himself. "Leave."

" _But I need you to s-sign-_ "

"I said _leave_!"

The sound of the package colliding with the snow was heard loud and clear, but Kuroko ignored it in favor of searching for the pack he hid in the cabinet.

When he couldn't find it, he grabbed a glass and threw it onto the floor, watching it break into a million tiny pieces. It soothed the burn on his soul a little, watching the pieces fall and tumble like that and he felt fascinated. Breaking something made him feel so in control. It was like hurting another and you could control how much you could hurt them before they eventually shattered. After the first glass, he broke the porcelain teacups his mother loved, the glassware, his father's glass figurines collection, the decorative plates that hung on the walls and pretty much anything that was breakable. Smash after smash after smash, he felt his anger seeping away slowly, like water that flowed down a river.

Eventually, he calmed down and told himself that he needed to clean the mess he made. He tried picking up a larger piece but accidentally cut himself and it made him froze.

The red ran across his cracked and split skin, dripping onto the floor like a faucet that wasn't fully turned close. It felt as fascinating as watching the glass break and this time, he felt enlightened, that he had so much control in his life, but didn't know.

His unhurt hand carefully grabbed the glass piece, positioning it against the hurt one and move in closer, scratching along the skin, as gentle as a lover's caress.

It felt so good to be in control.

.

.

.

Later, he remembered that he hid the pack behind the cabinet with containers of tea leaves and spices.

.

.

.

_Sweet, sweet, motherfucking release it was –_

.

.

.

When the high faded away, Kuroko Tetsuya reverted back to the angry, lousy, pathetic, self-loathing boy that he always was.

.

.

.

The package was forgotten, until a week later, when Kuroko went out of his house to shovel the snow off his lawn.

It was thoroughly soaked and slightly frozen, but he didn't care and threw it onto the kitchen floor to open later.

.

.

.

When Kuroko didn't have the high from substances or being in control, he became the boy he didn't want to be.

So, the logical conclusion was to get more when he finished the one he had and wasn't satisfied with seeing the thin lines that ran along his wrists.

.

.

.

"Fuck, Yuu, ya look like someone killed a kitten in front of ya." Kyou commented, laughing when he saw Kuroko's disheveled state. His clothes were messy, he had the worst bed hair and had red rimmed eyes. "What happened?"

"I finished the pack and I've been acting weird lately." Said Kuroko, scratching his wrists without even knowing. It didn't go unnoticed under Kyou's watchful gaze. "I've always been an angry person and I've kept it under… control… but lately, when I stopped, it comes back in full force and even worse than before."

"When did you stop using?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "If you used too much of the stuff, there's no turning back."

Kuroko kept quiet, finally understanding what Kyou was trying to get across.

He was suffering from cocaine withdrawal.

.

.

.

When he lost the will to love them, he lost the will to be human. That, he supposed, turned him into the disgusting beast but in this tale, there would be no happy ending or loose ends tied up neatly.

In Beauty and the Beast, a compassionate, beautiful woman, the Beauty, taught the unpleasant, vile, cynical Beast how to love, turning it back into human in the process and the two lived happily ever after, in love and forever in the magical moment together. That was how fairy tales ended, in everlasting happiness, known as "The End".

But if Kuroko was the Beast, his tale wouldn't be like that of the classic Beauty and the Beast. This is reality and there would be no princesses or kindness that would teach him how to love, nor was there an existence of "The End".

He didn't want to love and because of that, the story of the Beast would continue.

( _Did he try to save himself, then, if no one was the Beauty in his tale or kindness he needed?_

_No, he didn't._

_Instead, he bought more._

_Why?_

_It was because he still didn't care._ )

.

.

.

Most of the time, he was as high as a fucking cloud.

Maybe the next time, he would ascend to godhood like Aomine-kun and the rest of them.

Maybe then, he would be able to help them.

Or would he turn into a star first?

.

.

.

There was always the phrase, "one day". There was always a "one day" for everything, like, "one day, I'll…", "one day, this happened…" or "one day", like in stories. This time, there is a "one day" in the Beast's tale.

One day, the Beast thought the loneliness was unbearable because unlike in the story, the Beast did not kidnap someone's father and said someone came to it's dark castle to keep it company, in exchange for her father's freedom. The Beast thought that if life was not worth living, not worth going through with it, it should stop because living was useless.

Under the effects of a powerful spell it induced upon itself, it marched forward to the tallest tower in its castle and prepared for a journey, albeit a short one, that it didn't need, but wanted.

.

.

.

When he jumped, he felt like Icarus, who was an arrogant fucker that only had fake wings.

In the mythology, his father had initially crafted him wings of feathers and wax and gave him a warning of complacency and hubris. When he ignored his father's warnings and flew too close to the sun, his wings melted and he fell into the sea. Obviously, he drowned, and died.

There were notable differences between Kuroko and Icarus.

One, Kuroko didn't have wings.

Two, Kuroko wasn't an arrogant fucker.

Three, Kuroko jumped, not because he believed he could fly, but because he wanted to.

Four, Kuroko jumped, because he knew no one would care if he vanished.

Five, one person made no difference.

Six, Kuroko was and will always be invisible.

Lastly, it was an established fact that the world continued on even if one person died.

.

.

.

So was he the Beast, who was cursed because it could not love, or Icarus, the boy who thought he could fly high in the skies and beyond?

He didn't know either and when he fell,

His chest ached,

and there was only darkness that greeted him.

.

.

.

In the end, he forgot to clean up and to open the goddamn package left on the kitchen floor.

.

.

.

You know what's funny? The fact that his body wasn't found until eleven hours later, on the eleventh of winter February.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I don't regret writing this, even if it is somewhat a piece of crap (this gives off a "meh" feeling to me, but I do like my class fairytale and myth symbolism crap here). The idea, summary and some plot points was saved in my phone since last year (I think?) and I didn't get to write it until now.
> 
> Sorta depressing and not what I usually write, but hey, a change once in a while isn't bad. Though I wanted to develop it a bit more and make it a bit longer, I got kinda lazy and liked the vagueness plus the Beast and Icarus references more than developing it.
> 
> Also, I am not romanticizing any of what I just wrote, in case you got the wrong idea. If you are doing drugs, self-harming or feeling suicidal, please talk to someone close to you, vent it out in a safe way (don't break glass, guys!) or call a suicide/self-help hotline, if it's available at where you live. ^^


	2. The Drug Dealer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Kuroko was a mix of the Beast and Icarus, Kyou was Achilles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that this oneshot sucked because I didn't receive emails on reviews/favorites/follows/kudos. Thankfully, it's just my email.
> 
> Anyways, this was supposed to be a oneshot, or it might've been expanded to a two-shot if I felt like writing the aftermath chapter, but then my muse had to be an ass by tempting me to write this. So... this might be a three-shot or more.
> 
> PS: The title has been changed because I just realized that there's another Invisible in the knb archive, which is Invisible by LycheeLove (if you're reading this, I am so sorry please don't kill me).

* * *

**The Drug Dealer**

. . .

Kyou the drug dealer hanging out in the dark alley wasn't always Kyou. A long time ago, before all the shit that happened, he had been someone. Before the familiar packs and stench that never went away no matter how many times he washed his jacket, before the alley became a second home, before being acquainted with the girls that smoked behind the love hotel, before he dealt with all kinds of unsavory people – he had a name that his parents gave on the day he was born.

Before the beginning of Kyou, the deadbeat shit-face, he was Takahashi Katsuro, model student with a future ahead of him.

How his name was written was "high bridge" and "victorious son" and as he was often told by his parents, his first name gave him the luck to succeed and become the winner they wanted. Sometimes, when his father wasn't home – off to work, busy, too many things at once in his plans for him to make time for them –, his mother – tired but beautiful, loving, kind mother who never failed to make him smile – would tell him stories of heroes that took on dangerous quests to save others, how they won no matter what due to their courage and bravery and how Kyou, or Katsuro back then, was destined to become like them. Their surname, _high bridge_ , signified the obstacles he had to cross and his name, _victorious son_ , was the impenetrable shield he had with him to get him through anything tough.

In a sense, he would become his parents' hero, by getting good grades, having many friends, graduating from school without regrets, going to college and then getting a job to support his parents.

_(Yet, things didn't end the way they wanted.)_

When Kyou was Yuu's age, he was a bright star who dominated the others in both academics and sports. He was Takahashi, third year in Shōei Middle School, widely known as Takahashi-sempai or just Taka-sempai, the jack of all trades, the friendly upperclassman who didn't mind giving a hand to the younger years and was an all-around people-person kind of guy. Being able to ace his exams, score goals for any sports – particularly basketball, which he guessed that he had an innate affinity with it –, had a generous amount of tolerance and was friendly were what defined him and made him "Takahashi Katsuro".

Those were his glory days, because he had dreams, had loved ones, had been someone important.

_(Everything fell like dominoes.)_

One day, he returned to a home that was strangely empty. Then he remembered that his mother went out for a Women's Spa Day thinga-majig she had with her fellow housewives, so he shrugged, not at all worried because she had been so excited for the entire week to go on this one night trip that made him had no heart to tell her to stay for his sake. At least he could cook for himself since he was learning to be independent, he thought as he bit back the customary "I'm back" before he said it to the air.

So he had set his school bag down on the floor, before rummaging through the kitchen for ingredients he could use for a simple bowl of ramen, humming a random tune until he heard noises upstairs.

At first, he thought that there was a burglar upstairs. He knew his mother was already gone, confirmed after he had seen the note, "I made some onigiri for you, but cook whatever you want if you still feel hungry. Remember to turn off the gas! Love, mom" stuck onto the refrigerator with a magnet. His father was on a business trip in Kyoto and it wouldn't be enough time to fly back since he knew that his father had only boarded a plane an hour ago. No relatives of his were crazy enough to visit him at such a random time either, so that was out as well.

He tiptoed all the way up to the second floor, armed with a wooden baseball bat his friend lent to him while listening closely for the source of noise. Like all teenagers that thought that they were immortal, he was no exception and was confident in his ability to escape unscathed if the burglar was armed with a weapon, like a knife.

What he didn't expect, was when he summoned up the resolution he needed and slamming the door open to face off someone who dared to invade his home, was hearing a shriek.

A woman's shriek.

A woman, who definitely did not wear any clothing, therefore naked, was in the master bedroom.

With his father, who looked like a fish out of water – confused and scared.

Him?

He was _fucking livid_.

_(It was the first crack, because it made him realize that it wasn't perfect.)_

At that moment, he lowered the baseball bat and gave his father the ugliest, disgusted look he could wear before spitting out harshly, "I'm telling mom."

"Katsuro, son, please –" his father, who had jumped away from the woman as if she was the very embodiment of disease, tried begging him. Instead inciting pity in his son, he came off as pathetic, considering that his father, who he thought was the respectable man, good father and _faithful_ husband, was half naked and still in bed. "This is a mistake, so please don't tell your mother."

The nameless woman looked more offended that she had been brushed off, instead of shamed that she was essentially, well, bare. " _Excuse you_ , Takahashi-san, you said you desired me, just before your brat came in. You even _begged_ me, you dirty pervert."

His father looked angry, his look directed at the woman to silence her, but when he turned back to Katsuro, he looked like a swallowed a thousand needles.

"Now, Katsuro, son, don't be hasty. You understand that, as men, we get urges, yes?" Katsuro thought that had they been acting in some daytime drama, their roles were reversed. He would be the scandalized father while his father would be the teenage son who blamed everything on 'puberty' and 'hormones'. "Besides, you don't even have proof, so your mother wouldn't believe yo-"

 _ **Click**_.

"Well, guess again. I have my proof." He hissed out, secretly enjoying the growing look of horror on his father's face while the woman eventually realized that she was supposed to be appalled by this affair. He quickly sent the image to his mother before the photo got deleted, attaching the words, "come home, quick". He honestly didn't want to ruin her day off, especially when she deserved and needed it, but it was already ruined the moment he stepped into the master bedroom.

"Son, please –"

_(His family. His friends. His school life. Everything. He covered the flaws and pretended they didn't exist.)_

He snapped.

"Don't you call me your son when you just instructed me to disrespect my mother." If looks could kill, his father would have already been dead after the first glare directed at him. "I can't believe I actually thought-"

The words died in his throat when the irregular pace of footsteps reached his ears.

His mother was home.

.

.

.

When she arrived home, they obviously argued and the nameless woman checked herself out without anyone the wiser.

"I can't believe you, eighteen years of marriage and you –"

"-Not what it looks like-"

"Then what? You just happened to be in _our_ bed, with _another woman_? When you were supposed to be on a business trip to Kyoto?!"

"I came back-"

"After you messaged me that you boarded the plane?!"

"Look, dear, it's not-"

"Oh, it is exactly what it looks like!"

He, too, quietly disappeared to his room, not wanting to hear the argument between his parents.

Suddenly, he felt as if all hope was lost and everything, in the greater scheme of things, looked so worthless compared to now.

Or did "now" even mattered?

.

.

.

Then everything went downhill from there and no longer were the dominoes falling, but towers and skyscrapers too.

.

.

.

After that?

They divorced and he never saw his father again, until on one morning in July.

There was a news report about a tragic plane crash, his biological father, Takahashi Koji, was listed as one of the casualties.

His mother switched off the television and continued to eat in silence.

He did the same thing.

.

.

.

They never did attend the funeral.

.

.

.

When his mother and he had separated from his father and when he felt detached while reading the funeral invitation, he felt as a part of him died. It wasn't as if he missed his father, who wasn't even there most of the time, but due to the fact that he felt his world was a lie as well.

He felt as if he had been living in an alternate reality, a happy one that was too perfect that made him too spoiled to even contemplate about any tragedy that might happen. He felt disillusioned, irritated and perplexed.

With that in mind, by the end of the year he was socially withdrawn and his third year in middle school finished, quick like a midsummer drizzle. He attended the graduation ceremony, but immediately hid from his friends who were curious about what high school he was going to and girls who wanted the second button from his jacket.

He graduated quietly, with an empty heart and a wounded soul.

Then he disappeared and went off to a relatively unknown high school that took three train rides to reach.

When you asked others if they remembered who Takahashi, Takahashi-sempai or Taka-sempai was, they'd just remember a star who fell from the sky.

He was a bright star, until he became a tragic shooting star that did not grant wishes, but forgot them.

.

.

.

Like all stars, the light he had would eventually grow and grow until he wouldn't be able to handle it anymore.

From birth to the end, he would die brightly as well.

But then he refused to die and became the pathetic backdoor dealer he was, living in a system that made him into a machine.

.

.

.

Many people said high school was the highlight of youth. You start afresh, go to school with a new image, get a girlfriend or boyfriend, have tons of friends, be somebody that everyone would reminisce on and be like, "Oh yeah, that person was cool!" or something like that. To a majority, high school was something you didn't want to mess up or miss out on, because high school is a stage of reality where you can shape it whatever you want it to be as long as you do it right.

To Katsuro, high school was a bummer. It had too many nosy people, too many annoying teachers too many groupies, too many idiots, too much drama, too many subjects he didn't even like and so on. It was boring, it sucked and it was vexing.

Why bother if he was going to graduate as a nobody anyways?

To a majority, they tried their best for high school, unless, in the words of some people, "they were some silly shut-in who wanted to be a NEET".

Instead, Katsuro did his average for high school, by getting average grades, not going to clubs, not interacting with anybody save for groups, never getting intimate with a girl, never accepted any invitations to hang out with others, never went for school trips and never had a group he could call "his friends". Everyone knew him as the "silent guy who was kinda rude".

By the end of his "highlight of youth", he graduated quietly and left for college without looking back.

.

.

.

College, like how his high school life had been, sucked. Despite the age difference, there were still groupies, idiots and immaturity everywhere that apparently missed an important development in their brains. Not only did it suck, it was also boring and tiring, because he hated waking himself up to go to a place he absolutely detested.

Yet it seemed that Katsuro was not the eighteen year old adult he was supposed to be but the naïve five year old who listened to whatever his mother said, even if she said that the moon was made of cheese or clouds were actually cotton candy. He didn't even want to go to college in the first place, _period_ , because he didn't want to pursue education, but his mother had talked to him, telling him that he needed a legitimate college diploma of whatever to find a job in whatever.

In all honesty, Katsuro was done trying to please his mother, because look how well that turned out when his father disappointed him with his idiocy and basically threw Katsuro's respect away into the drain without an ounce of guilt. In fact, he was done trying to be their, or well, in the current case, his mother's hero.

He wasn't a hero, but if he was, he could be compared to Achilles. The hero who had been basically immortal in every way except that his biggest weakness and his mortality point had been _his_ _fucking_ _heel_ , of all things. In the story, Achilles died when an enemy shoot an arrow at his heel in a war.

If Katsuro was Achilles, his father had been his heel, who had been the very reason for Takahashi's downward spiral to hell.

"Please, Katsuro-kun, listen to your mother." The man, his step-father pleaded. When his mother had been widowed, she didn't grieve much and had finalized the paperwork that involved things like marriage, property and will. She was lonely, yes, but she didn't mourn for the missing presence that was his biological father. However, in Katsuro's second year of high school, his mother had found a man and eventually, they married. Katsuro had given a smile and clapped when they finished their vows at the wedding ceremony, but in the inside, he could hardly care. "She only means well and I agree with her."

Katsuro was honestly unsure if this man, Kiyoshi Minoru, was a better father than Takahashi Koji had been. Sure, Minoru's presence was much more constant in the house than his biological father had been, was more kind, gentle, polite, helpful and considerate to his mother, but Katsuro was reluctant to make a proper conclusion. He rather be left in the dark concerning Minoru's "true" motives, if only to stay vigilant forever when his stepfather was brought into the equation.

"Fine." Katsuro mumbled, conceding to his mother's whims.

He then hated college with the passion of a thousand suns.

That is, until he met Katsumi.

.

.

.

Katsumi was like an ethereal being who did not belong with humans. She was much more beautiful than an angel and looked more entrancing that a vixen that pretended to be a woman. It would be offensive to compare her to a mermaid or a siren had she been at sea, because she was much more than a being imagined by sailors who were out of their minds after leaving the land for so long.

She was as beautiful as she was real.

The best part?

Katsuro had her heart and she had everything of him.

.

.

.

When it happened, Katsuro himself vowed to never become a father, or if he did, not a terrible one like his was, who was a cheating, lying scumbag.

You know what?

It's funny how fate works in mysterious ways.

.

.

.

Like how fate works in mysterious ways, love does too.

Love is a feeling and it can be from one person or between two people. Love is a happy thing, because loving and being loved can make you feel happy like nothing else. What's wonderful about it is that you could actually love anyone and anyone could love you. Love is not a system that determines if people were meant to be for each other, but people finding their Mister or Miss Right through trial and error.

But love, as wonderful as it is, is also terrible.

Sometimes, love can bring you unwanted things.

Like how love can happen at any given time, love can also produce love.

In this case, love between two people can produce a child. Of course, sexual intercourse between a man and a woman can produce one, but in Katsuro and Katsumi's case, theirs was love.

As an established fact, love can bring you unwanted things.

"Katsuro," his girlfriend says to him one day, not in her usual soft-spoken voice, but something… intense and fearful. "I'm pregnant." She whispers like it's a secret not meant to be shared and rubs her abdomen.

For Katsuro, it was a child.

A child, his child, was not an object, but a someone, a living being, who had been living inside his girlfriend's womb for six weeks and counting, she tells him.

He was not ready to be a father.

Hell, he didn't even want to be one.

But he doesn't tell her this.

That is because Katsuro is not a hero, is not as courageous and brave as Achilles had been in the Trojan War, despite his one weakness that was potentially worse than a stab to the heart. He is nothing but a coward driven by his mother's expectations of him and his hatred of the world's lies.

Then again, Katsuro held onto the belief that he still had high bridges to cross and no matter how scary, he had to walk across the unsteady, rotting planks of wood while holding onto the rope that might tear at any given time.

For his girlfriend and for his unborn child.

No matter how uncertain he was, he didn't want to ask his girlfriend to abort the child she was already growing to love. Abortion was legal in Japan, but that didn't mean he was going to allow their child to die before seeing the world.

He was not going to be as irresponsible as his biological father and he would not readily abandon his girlfriend like that.

_(He never wanted to be like his father.)_

"What are you going to name him or her?" he asks, hugging her and smiling in the crook of her neck. "You're the mother, I think you should decide."

She hugs back.

"If it's a girl, I'll name her Keiko." She replies, smiling as well. "If it's a boy, well… I've always wanted a son named…"

_(Love was mysterious, love was strange. For someone who he never even smiled at or held hands with, he was already protective of his unborn child.)_

They both quit college and with the – slightly reluctant – blessings from both of their parents, they married in autumn, when they were twenty.

In early June, next year, they have a son, who they promptly named Teppei.

After the paperwork was finalized, their son was officially Kiyoshi Teppei.

.

.

.

Even though Katsuro was written as victorious child and Katsumi as victorious beauty, they were not at all winners.

Katsumi lost in the game of life after little Teppei became three and Katsuro lost the will to live when he lost his wife to a stupidly mundane, terrible accident.

They didn't win at anything.

All they did was keep losing until they had nothing to lose.

Even then, the world carried on despite the tragedy that struck.

.

.

.

When the funeral for Katsumi took place, Katsuro didn't attend it.

While many people said that he was cold hearted to not show any sorrow for his wife's death, he wanted to prove them wrong because it wasn't true at all.

Katsuro didn't even have a heart any longer, because Katsumi took it with her when she left.

.

.

.

When the loss of his wife became unbearable – beautiful Katsumi who smiled at the silliest of things and the lamest of his jokes – he knew he lost everything. While Teppei was his son and was also his responsibility, he couldn't handle taking care of their child without her.

It was lonely and painful.

Then, Katsuro became the man he didn't want to be.

He became just like his biological father – an irresponsible, pathetic, lying and useless man.

On a snowy night, he had left his son in his parents' care, telling them he was, "going to be busy for a while and couldn't trust a babysitter to look after Teppei".

He didn't come back.

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.

.

"Does a loss ever ease, after some time?" Yuu asks him one day, snapping him out of his smoke-induced haze. Sometimes, when Kyou wasn't focusing, he would lose himself to the trap known as his memories. It reminded him of all the rotten things he had done that he purposely blinded himself from. "Sometimes, whenever I see something that reminds me of them, it… aches. I hate it and then I smash something into a million of pieces, snort more coke and laugh."

Kyou sort of gets what Yuu is trying to tell him. When his heart aches of loss and yearns for a different, happier "what-if", he'd rather do his best to drown himself in happiness, even if it's temporary. When the bliss ends, however, the cycle continues. It's rather vicious and sad, he thinks, because it can never go away. After all, no one is willing to face their demons. Drugs are like a temporary exorcism and incomplete holy words.

"Never." He laughs under his breath. It's impossible to get over loss, no matter how small or insignificant. Even after eighteen years, he couldn't get over Katsumi's death. "I was married once, ya know." He confesses with a dragged out sigh.

Yuu and him were very different people and had a large age difference. They have only been acquaintances for like a month or so, but they didn't mind telling each other things that made them resort to drugs. It's not like they really knew each other anyways, because they didn't pry.

"Married early, had a son named Teppei." He continues, as Yuu draws circles on the snow distractedly. Kyou's instinct tells him that his companion is listening anyways. "We were happy, my wife and I. We quit college, because we both wanted him and in the end, it led to marriage. I didn't mind, because I really loved her."

"When Teppei was three, she died. From a car accident." He mutters darkly. "Apparently, it was due to the engine malfunctioning or something like that, causin' the car to go out of control and made the driver swerve to the side. My wife was at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Sometimes," Kyou says, closing his eyes to remember Katsumi's smile and then remembering Teppei's heartbroken but hopeful expression when Kyou, as Katsuro, told him to stay with his grandparents and lied that he would come back soon. He never did visit once, in the past eighteen years he had been running. "A death doesn't mean anything in the greater scheme of things, but when someone dies, no matter how unimportant they are, someone out there grieves, because to them, it's a loss."

Yuu hums, slightly high and woozy. Kyou doesn't mind, since he did invite his younger client to have a drug fest with him in the alley. On days like these, no one frequents the alley and it becomes comfortable, because there are no crowds to make him claustrophobic and he can sleep on the snow. A bonus was that he could unlit his cigarettes by shoving them into the accumulated snow.

"But sometimes, when someone dies," Yuu abruptly speaks up, his voice too somber for a young boy and it makes Kyou ponder on what made him like that. He certainly won't inquire about it, but it's a curious matter. "No one cares, because maybe, that someone was invisible in the first place."

"Can't be it." Kyou dismisses Yuu's statement with a wave of his hand, missing Yuu's slight change of expression. "If that hypothetical person was invisible, he would've died from the loneliness. No one can survive without someone, 'cause humans are creatures of interaction."

After that, Yuu laughs and it is depressing and bitter.

It makes Kyou ponder why as well.

.

.

.

He finds out, a week after Yuu dies.

Since Kyou knows where Yuu's house is, he enters it with gloves and such that leaves no indication he was ever in, like his fingerprints, hair and skin cells, not to find phone numbers to dial – because the authorities did a lovely job on informing Yuu's remaining family about his death, though Kyou doesn't know how well that went – but to find something from Yuu. It is not money or packs of cocaine, but something more mundane and pointless to own.

As Kyou, he wasn't a nostalgia kind of guy. He hated any kind of objects that remind him of the past, but he didn't mind objects that reminded him of a person he was connected with. For example, he kept the wedding ring he had with a chain necklace, a faded picture of Katsumi, Teppei and him, an old red tie he had gotten from his mother and so on. You could say he was a hoarder of valueless things that belonged to people he knew.

Logically speaking, he wants something that belonged to Yuu, to remember the little guy.

So he walks up the stairs, searches a bit until he finds Yuu's room and just like his room when he was in middle school, Yuu's is also clean and everything arranged nicely, unlike most boys his age.

Kyou makes a beeline for the bookshelf, because he knows from the conversations they shared, Yuu used to be an avid reader before he turned to drugs, which meant that Yuu had treasured his collection of books more than anything else he owned. Now that the little guy was dead, though, he wouldn't mind if Kyou took a book from him, as Kyou sold his drugs cheaper to Yuu than to anyone else before or after him. He never said it, but the blue-haired boy had reminded him of his own son, who would be a year or two older than him.

He skims through the book titles, until he finds the one he knows, only by name.

He takes it out, only for a folded piece of paper to drop out of its pages.

When Kyou opens it, seeing a note written neatly in black pen, he laughs.

[Kyou-san, if you're taking this book, you suck.

Then again, by the time you take this, I'm already dead.

-Yuu, Kuroko Tetsuya]

It's hilarious, because it is the first time Yuu ever calls him by his name – even if it is in written form – and how, even though Kyou knew Yuu's real name now, he still thinks "Yuu" is more fitting for his dead companion.

Yuu was exactly like a ghost.

_(Kyou refuses to cry and instead, chokes back a sob.)_

_(The world has lost another and in the greater scheme of things, it didn't matter because it was not a loss to the world.)_

He leaves without saying goodbye.

_(Yet, Kyou ponders, exactly how many are grieving for this lost boy.)_

Kyou leaves the house in silence, with the book tucked in his jacket and the tragedy of the boy named Kuroko Tetsuya engraved into his mind.

The world carried on.

 

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.

.

It is the third time he doesn't attend a funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs evilly*


End file.
